When Love Turns to Poison

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Waking up in the middle of the night, my husband was crying, begging me to let him see the girl one last time.

Ill just see her one last time and then I'll come back. Please, can you do that for me?

In seven years of marriage, this was only the second time hed spoken to me with such a pleading, placating tone. The first time was when I walked in on the girl scrambling out of his office, disheveled. He was afraid Id make a scene, so he grabbed my hand and begged, "Honey, I promise I'll break it off with her."

"Don't divorce me, I'd die without you. Please?"

I gave him a second chance. And he kept his word, diligently returning to family life, becoming the perfect husband everyone praised.

Until tonight.

I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into his eyes, and answered seriously, "Go. Don't leave yourself with any regrets."

I had no regrets left. I hoped he wouldn't either.

The sudden, harsh light made Aaron Gould instinctively close his eyes. The tear tracks on his face became starkly clear, glaringly so. I suddenly found the whole scene absurd, almost laughable. This man, who hadnt even flinched when he took a rebar blow for me during our youth, nearly losing his right arm, was now weeping like this over saying goodbye to a girl in her early twenties.

His drunken haze gradually receded as he scrutinized my expression. A few seconds later, he seemed like a tightly coiled spring that suddenly unspooled, collapsing onto the bed. "You can make a scene like before, you can hit me and forbid me to go."

"Why pretend you don't care, just to make me feel guilty? It's pretty pathetic, Sophia."

His expression was one of suppressed agony. Ever since Aaron returned to the family, such suffocating atmospheres had become common. Outsiders, unaware, would comment that we were more in love than ever after our seven-year itch. They would joke that Professor Gould now ran home from work like a lovesick teenager, unable to be apart from me for a second.

His social media profile picture was me, his phone voluntarily submitted for my inspection. He was the epitome of a devoted husband. But only we knew the turbulent storm brewing beneath that seemingly calm exterior. After that incident, I became sensitive and fragile, and my words grew sharp and critical. If he said a certain necklace looked good, making me appear younger, I would demand to know if he was tired of me, thinking me old and faded because he had someone younger, fresher in his heart.

He once took me to a trendy restaurant for a date, and everything was going well. But when I heard him casually say, "Their signature dish is quite good," I suddenly erupted, demanding why he would bring me to a place he'd been to with another woman. Yet, I had never been like this before.

I used to be cheerful and optimistic, the life of the party among family and friends. How had I become like this?

Honestly, the time I caught him cheating, I thought about divorce. He was the one who, back then, had spent a whole month begging me, swearing countless times that he would never make the same mistake. Yet later, he was also the one who stared at me with a cold face as I spiraled, asking if I was done making a scene. During my most emotional breakdown, I smashed nearly everything in the house, pointing at him and screaming hysterically:

"Do you think I only forgave you that one time?!"

"No, every night I lay awake, unable to sleep, remembering, I would forgive you again."

"Why are you the one who made the mistake, yet I'm the one suffering?!"

The glass wasn't broken by me, yet I walked barefoot over it every single day.

Tonight was our eighth wedding anniversary. Everything had started so well. Aaron, uncharacteristically, drank a lot. With every sip, he would tell me "I love you." He must have said it a hundred times, and we both blushed, as if we were back in our honeymoon phase. I even quietly thought to myself, Maybe, I should just forgive him. Lets pretend none of it ever happened.

But only moments ago, I suddenly realized how ridiculous I was. His breakdown wasn't because he loved me. It was because another woman was leaving. So, suddenly, I felt no more regrets. I pulled out the divorce papers Id prepared long ago from the bedside table and handed them to him.

"Aaron Gould, I'm setting you free."

But he shot up from the bed. "Sophia, are you trying to drive me to my death before you're satisfied?!"

"Summer Vance is leaving for Toronto soon; we'll never have a chance to see each other again. I'm just going as her professor to see her off. Is that really so wrong?!"

His phone rang abruptly. He answered, his voice incredibly gentle. "Mmm, wait for me. I'll be there in half an hour." Before leaving, Aaron tossed the divorce papers into the trash. "Everything can wait until I get back."

"But divorce? Don't even think about it."

The door slammed shut with a bang. In the room, only my own muffled sobs remained.

I checked; there were no flights to Toronto tonight.

Sure enough, not long after, Summer Vance sent me a photo. Aaron, bare-chested, was resting peacefully and securely in her arms.

[Professor Gould says he can only sleep soundly in my presence now.]

[Do you think he won't divorce you because he still loves you? He just doesn't want to affect the associate dean selection committee next week.]

Looking at the divorce papers, meant to split our assets evenly, now discarded in the trash. I suddenly laughed.

He was the one who betrayed me. So he should be the one to pay the price.

Aaron and I were college sweethearts. After graduation, he stayed on as a professor, and I went to work for a foreign company. But after we got married, he asked if I could resign, citing his busy school projects, and focus on our family. At the time, I was caught in the tumultuous infighting of my company, so I agreed.

But now I was divorcing him. Returning to the workplace was inevitable. However, having been out of society for too long, the several-year gap on my resume would make it difficult to find a job with similar pay. So I decided to go abroad to polish my credentials, which would also make up for the shortcomings on my resume.

As I used the computer in the study to browse the application requirements for foreign universities, I unexpectedly discovered a private folder. The title read: [To My Dearest].

Those three short words gradually blurred before my eyes. I, as if disbelieving, entered my birthday, his birthday, our wedding anniversary. I stubbornly tried every number with special meaning to us. But it was still wrong. Until I clicked on Summer Vance's social media, found her birthday, and entered it.

The folder unlocked.

Even though I already knew the answer, seeing the result with my own eyes made my heart ache so much I could barely breathe. The folder was a hefty 4.3 GB. It was meticulously filled with everything about Summer Vance. A discarded hair clip, picked up by him, placed over his heart, and photographed. Videos of Summer Vance sleeping on the desk while they rushed projects in the studio together. Voice messages Summer Vance sent him, her address to him evolving from the initially distant "Professor Gould" to later "Brother," then "Husband."

Aaron had carefully recorded his mood next to each entry. He called her his "Little Moon," and he wrote:

[Little Moon, I often feel like a sick dog chained up, only when I occasionally look up at you does my soul find release.]

[Today you said you would give yourself to me as a gift, but I refused. Not because I don't love you, but because I dare not profane you.]

He hated that he hadnt met her sooner, and even more, that he already had a family before he met her. I felt like a thief peeking into someone else's privacy, watching their bone-deep love affair unfold through the screen.

The last entry was from the day I discovered their affair. Aaron had written a suicide note, filled with guilt for Summer Vance. His address to her had changed; he called her, "My wife."

[My wife, if one day I unfortunately pass away, all my property will be yours.]

[As for Sophia, I wronged her. A sum to ensure her comfortable old age will suffice.]

All the blood in my body had turned completely cold, my hand gripping the mouse trembling uncontrollably. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, and I hugged the trash can, throwing up with a retch.

Just then, Aaron surprisingly returned. The moment he saw the computer screen, he panicked, stammering out an excuse. "No, no, it's not like that, Sophia. Listen to me."

"I just wanted to vent my emotions. There's nothing else between us"

Before he could finish, I wiped my mouth and sat up straight. Looking into his eyes, I said each word clearly: "I'm giving you two choices: either she leaves right now."

"Or I'll expose all your disgusting affairs!"

Just as I expected, Aaron chose the first option. Not only was he afraid of damaging his career, but he also couldn't bear for his "Little Moon" to be tainted in the slightest. So, when Summer Vance came to find me, I wasn't surprised. In fact, I was afraid she wouldn't.

I chose a quiet coffee shop for our meeting, a place Aaron and I used to frequent. Summer Vance looked exactly as she did in her social media photos: full of youthful collagen and vibrant energy. But she also had a common youthful flaw: she couldn't keep her composure.

"Big Sis, you saw the photos I sent you, right? We've already slept together."

"Tsk, tsk, I just casually mentioned leaving, and he got so desperate."

"But thank you too. If you hadn't pushed him so hard, how else would he have realized how good I am?"

She was like a ruffled hen, eager to provoke me into divorcing Aaron. But I just shrugged with a nonchalant smile, my gaze fixed on the bag she was carrying. "A new L-brand model. Aaron certainly doesn't hesitate to spend money on you." Summer Vance curved her lips triumphantly.

But before she could speak, I continued, "I've researched your family; you can't afford a six-figure bag."

"Little sister, let me give you a quick legal lesson. The money he spends on you is marital property. If we divorce, you'll have to return half of it."

"But I suppose most of the money has already been spent?"

"Or I could go to your parents. Then the entire village will know that you, Summer Vance, are a mistress in college!"

Summer Vance's smile froze. She shot up from her seat, her once delicate features instantly twisting into something almost grotesque. "You wouldn't dare!"

"You can try me and see if I dare!" Although I was sitting, my presence overshadowed hers.

Just then, the girl, who had been so aggressive, suddenly glanced behind me. The next second, she quickly grabbed her coffee cup and splashed it all over her own face. When she spoke again, her eyes were red. "Sister, I'm sorry, there's really nothing between me and Professor Gould."

"I'm leaving the country soon. Please, don't pressure me anymore, okay?"

Urgent footsteps approached from behind. Id never seen Aaron look so frantic. He immediately pulled Summer Vance into his arms, tenderly wiping the coffee from her face. When he looked at me, his eyes were icy, but because we were in public, he didn't dare say a word.

I watched him with an ironic smile. Just then, several students trailing behind him, clearly his students who had just come from a meeting, notebooks still in hand, began to chatter.

"So this is Professor Gould's infamous shrew of a wife? Tsk, tsk, no wonder Professor Gould doesn't want to go home!"

"It's the modern age, and she's still playing the 'aggrieved wife catching the mistress' role! Spreading malicious rumors about a girl should be punishable, right?"

"Exactly! Summer said she's being forced to leave the country because of her, and she still comes here to humiliate her!"

With each word they spoke, Summer Vance's eyes reddened a bit more. And Aaron's face paled a bit more. I raised an eyebrow, then in a move no one expected, walked over to Summer Vance. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face, then smiled at the students. "See? If I really wanted to hit her, I wouldn't do something so ineffective and stupid."

Summer Vance clutched her face and tumbled into Aaron's arms, fiercely suppressing the hatred in her eyes. Aaron finally lost his temper, shouting, "Enough! Sophia, don't go too far!"

I'm going too far? More was yet to come! But before I could retaliate, one of the boys defending Summer Vance shoved me hard. "What else do you want to do! If you touch her again, I'll call the police!"

I lost my balance for a moment and fell to the ground, my head hitting the table corner hard. For a moment, the world spun. The boy also panicked, quickly telling Aaron he didn't mean it. But Aaron only gave me a deep look, then said nothing, leading his students away.

I clutched my throbbing head and barely managed to stand up from the floor. I didn't watch Aaron and Summer Vance leaving, supporting each other. Instead, my gaze went to a hidden spot on the ceiling.